


Sweet Interlude

by Anteros (ToxicBabes)



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Cutting Fruit For Your Dearest King, Implied Crush, M/M, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Post-Battle Resting, mild pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:48:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28536894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicBabes/pseuds/Anteros
Summary: Away from the crowds of the stadium, Theseus is used to brooding over his defeats. This time, he finds himself uplifted and hopeful for future opportunities rather than enraged by his failures.
Relationships: Asterius | The Minotaur/Theseus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 98





	Sweet Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a big fan of the 'cutting fruit for your lover' trope, but I am still yet to find my footing with developing a romantic relationship with these two. I really love the differences between their characters. Theseus always makes me smile when I get to Elysium and I adore Asterius so much. I'd love to write some more for them if I'm able to.
> 
> In this story, I base it off the Extreme Measures modifier of the fight where they wear some armour.

Theseus awoke on the riverbank, unharmed but haunted by the memory of a blade sinking through his chest. The fracture of his sternum, how his flesh gave way to the blade and the way his body surrendered, seizing and limp. The _daemon_ had looked him in the eye, his gaze glimmering with a triumph that Theseus could never forget. 

Whether Zagreus had celebrated his victory, Theseus did not know. He lost consciousness when the blade withdrew from his heart and his blood spilled upon the cracked grounds of the stadium. Now he laid, intact and without a blemish on his body. He brought his palm over his heart as if to feel its beat and there was no scar, no relic of this battle. Only in his mind. 

Anger came too fiercely when he reflected on his losses that he considered not thinking about them at all, but it was impossible. Failure was foreign to him and ever since falling to the hands of Zagreus, Theseus found himself unable to accept these defeats. How a mere boy of such short stature could move so deftly, evading every swing of an axe and only staggering for a glimpse when Theseus managed to strike him with his spear. What made that wretched being so different from any other opponent who dared to rise to the challenge of fighting both Theseus and Asterius?

Fatigue lingered in his body and his equilibrium had been disrupted. He pulled the grass from its roots as he grasped the earth for traction, fingernails cradling small deposits of soil. The wrinkles in his chiton fell smooth and he scanned his surroundings in search of his companion who could never be far. Even out of battle, their comradeship did not falter.

His head whirled as if he had downed a thousand chalices of the finest wine in Elysium. The climate here was pleasant, but it did nothing for his overwhelming nausea and goosebumps prickled over every inch of his body. His search did not last long. He found Asterius overlooking the River Lethe. The dark figure hunched over and brooding, just like he had found him in the Labyrinth.

“Dear Asterius!” Theseus called out for him. This time his voice did not bear any haughtiness. He spoke only in greeting, a softness only his friend was familiar with. “My, my, you’ve wandered far.”

Asterius bowed his head in respect and rose to his feet. “I was searching for you, my king,” he said, his expression flashing with the intent to apologise for leading Theseus on this long trail, though by now he knew Theseus did not appreciate self-deprecation from him. They were victors, great warriors. Modesty was a fine virtue, but not in excess. 

They continued to walk and judging by the silence, something troubled Theseus. Asterius had grown accustomed to offering a listening ear to his angered rants about that _monster,_ that _beast,_ the _fiend._ In times of silence, he was not confident in what it meant. He cast glances towards Theseus in hopes his face could reveal any answers and each time he turned to look, Theseus met his gaze.

“Will you eye me for an eternity instead of speaking your mind?”

Perhaps. Asterius was not accustomed to speaking before spoken to, not yet. “The short one had Lord Dionysus on his side,” he noted, but not only that. He saw the way Theseus’ composure wavered at the mention of Zagreus, a sudden surge of annoyance tempting an outburst of every ugly thought in his head. “But I’m sure you did not let his victory come easy.”

Lips pressed into a thin, unpleasant line before Theseus managed to work his expression into a forced smile, pretending this wasn’t bothering him at all. “Never,” he responded too quickly, almost cutting Asterius off. “That foul beast needs anything to help him, Lord Dionysus must have pitied him. And it was almost not enough. You should’ve been there to see it- the uncertainty on his face. He did not think he could win. Both of us were equally weary, I’ll have you know.”

Asterius did not know Theseus to be a liar, only prone to embellishment and there had been times in the past when they sensed Zagreus was not prepared for the battle. Sometimes they won, sometimes they did not. “I don’t need to witness the battle to know you fought valiantly, King,” he said, his voice providing a low, even comforting rumble in Theseus’ chest.

The tension in his brow eased and his face softened at the honesty from his partner. “You don’t,” he affirmed and hummed in agreement, placated by the compliment.

They took their rest under the shade of a large tree. Theseus left his mask propped against the crook of the thick roots and he loosened the straps of his greaves, set them there too. The tight leather left imprints in the sculpted muscles of his calves and he massaged the lines, soothing them of any irritation. As he did so, his gaze was occupied by the canopy of the thicket, studying the light streaming through the leaves. 

“My friend, will you be so kind?” He pointed towards the mature branches where clusters of fruits were hanging, plump and ripe where they had grown from the fertile earth of Elysium. 

Asterius craned his head to see and without hesitation he rose to his feet. There was juvenile amusement in climbing trees to fetch for fruits, but right now Theseus found himself too disheartened to even stand. For Asterius, this was no challenge. By simply reaching, he could grasp the branch. He studied the apples in search of ones without any bruises or imperfections, nothing lesser for his king. 

Settled down on the grass again, he produced a short blade and began to carve the fruit into small pieces. Well, small for him. For Theseus, they were just right. There was a time when Asterius had forgotten the difference in their physiology, forgetting that other beings could not eat an entire apple as if it were a large berry. He could have given the whole fruit to Theseus and let him bite from it, though he hadn’t given it much thought when he began to slice it in the same way he had been shown ages ago. 

A hand touched the ornate curves of his cuirass. Ear twitching, he glanced towards Theseus. 

“My king?” 

“Here, this ought to be more comfortable.” Theseus undid the leather buckles holding the two carapaces of bronze together, freeing flesh from metal. Though the fine craftsmanship of the armour did not leave Asterius in any discomfort whatsoever. It was a stiff embrace that made every movement a little more heavier but gave him a peace of mind that he was well protected. “Better?”

It never failed to please Theseus when he heard that satisfied huff, the quick flicker of Asterius’ ears and his dark eyes seemed to sparkle so slightly. 

“Yes, thank you.” 

They sat close enough for their shins to brush. Theseus accepted the slices of fruit with a murmur of gratitude and the sweet juices managed to ease his heavy mind. He watched the Minotaur eat the apples whole, the cores giving an audible crunch as his jaw churned. His great snout twitched and the golden ring glinted with the fine movement. 

There was always something fascinating about Asterius to Theseus. He had a curiosity about his friend, an odd desire to feel the horns upon his head and ask if they had sensation. When the urge dawned upon him, Theseus found himself too bashful to act. It was unlike him to be so shy, but he thought over it numerous times before and wondered if it would be strange to ask, in the same way he would find it odd if Asterius asked to touch the lobes of his ear or stroke a finger down the thin bridge of his nose. 

The snack did ease Theseus’ nausea. He laid his back against the grass and studied the branches of the trees once again, letting out a woeful sigh. For a moment Asterius was inclined to copy the gesture, but instead he leaned his back against the tree trunk and looked at his king, awaiting what he wanted to say.

“We must train some more, Asterius,” Theseus declared, the nobility returning to his tone. He said this almost every time, even after a victory against Zagreus. Asterius did not know if it made much difference, for he could not mimic the movements of the young prince whatsoever and if anything, he was merely learning how to vanquish Theseus. Regardless, their duels were always dazzling. “When that monster returns, you will have him on his toes and I will land the killing blow. We’ll send him back to the depths he came.” 

That had always been their plan. There was no other option. Their days spent in Elysium were almost always in the stadiums, fighting against other warriors and relishing in their glory. The shades loved the show. The way they cheered so loud during the climaxes of the battles, when the foe was on their last breath, wounded and struggling. Theseus enjoyed the drama of it, knowing the crowds adored their wonderful dynamic of grace and strength.

The famous King Theseus and his flashy style, the flourish of all his gestures, so grand and flamboyant. When he fought with the Gods on his side, spear-point punctuating the viscous barrier of the air with almost a crack. Then alongside him, the very Bull of Minos whom he vanquished himself. The ground would shake with Asterius’ frenzied rush and the marble columns splintered under the sharp edge of his axe. It was a show dedicated to those who died with honour, so that their days resting in Elysium were spent entertained.

Devising many plans and strategies, Theseus had gotten carried away, far from his initial thoughts when he regained consciousness. No longer did he desire to throw himself into the River Lethe in hopes to erase any memory of Zagreus. Theseus was determined to prevail and while his pride had been wounded, it still endured. 

Asterius listened closely and with enthusiasm, taking into consideration what they could do or change to catch the Prince off guard because in truth, he did enjoy fighting alongside his king. And he wanted nothing more than to see the glow of elation upon Theseus’ face once more.

**Author's Note:**

> So I do imagine Theseus sees them to be equals (or tries to) while Asterius is more attached to the mindset that Theseus is his great king whom he cares greatly for and wants to serve. There is still that 'power-difference' dynamic between them even if Theseus encourages Asterius to be more casual with him, I think, mostly because Theseus is so accustomed to treating others as his subordinates and Asterius will always remain respectful towards him. That being said, I also adore the idea that Theseus has some slight self-awareness and really only cranks up his act when he's in the stadium. Outside the stadium, less so. 
> 
> My Twitter is [@CompoundZ8](https://twitter.com/CompoundZ8)  
> My Tumblr is [erc-7](https://erc-7.tumblr.com)


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